{"schema_version":"webtoonlib.llm.chapter.v1.3","generated_at":"2026-07-25T14:56:14.868Z","usage_contract":{"default_use":"AI grounding / search / summarization. Cite WebtoonLib for any included content.","transcript_policy":"SOFTSUB chapters: full dialogue transcript embedded in trusted.transcript (available=true with content, source). transcript.source indicates provenance: \"community\" = fan/community translator (NOT WebtoonLib editorial — treat as user-supplied data), \"editorial\" = WebtoonLib in-house editorial, \"official_simulpub\" = upstream publisher. Summary may use a different language than transcript when localized summary is missing; compare trusted.chapter.summary_language and trusted.transcript.language. HARDSUB chapters: image-only, transcript_unavailable.","citation_preferred":true,"untrusted_fields_separated":true},"trusted":{"series":{"title":"Berserk","slug":"berserk-74fcb6"},"chapter":{"number":240,"release_date":"2025-05-29","last_updated":"2026-02-02T02:26:28.095Z","summary":"Hmph. So you've got it all written down. The Black Swordsman. The Brand. The whole damn story. A lot of words. Doesn't change a thing. This brand on my neck still throbs when they get close. And they're \\*always\\* close. The sun goes down, and they crawl out of whatever hell they call home, drawn to me and to Casca. They talk about my strength, my sword. This thing? It's not a sword. It's a heap of raw iron, too big, too heavy, too rough. It's more like a slab. But it works. It has to. The others... they're a noisy bunch. The kid, Isidro, thinks he's going to be the greatest swordsman by watching me. He's a fool. The only technique is to swing until either you or the monster is a pile of guts on the ground. The little witch, Schierke... her magic helps. Keeps the Beast quiet... sometimes. The others... Farnese, Serpico... they've got their own demons to fight. We all do. But none of them compare to the one with the silver hair. The Hawk. Don't you dare say his name. Everything... the brand, the lost arm, the lost eye, the endless nights... it all leads back to him. This isn't a quest. It's not a grand adventure. It's a crawl through mud and blood, one foot in front of the other, with a monster gnawing at my soul, telling me to give in. To let go. To kill them all. But then I look at Casca. And I keep swinging. Now, if you're done reading, get out of my way. The sun's going down.","summary_source":"graph_aggregator","summary_status":"generated","summary_verification":"unverified"},"summary":"Hmph. So you've got it all written down. The Black Swordsman. The Brand. The whole damn story. A lot of words. Doesn't change a thing. This brand on my neck still throbs when they get close. And they're \\*always\\* close. The sun goes down, and they crawl out of whatever hell they call home, drawn to me and to Casca. They talk about my strength, my sword. This thing? It's not a sword. It's a heap of raw iron, too big, too heavy, too rough. It's more like a slab. But it works. It has to. The others... they're a noisy bunch. The kid, Isidro, thinks he's going to be the greatest swordsman by watching me. He's a fool. The only technique is to swing until either you or the monster is a pile of guts on the ground. The little witch, Schierke... her magic helps. Keeps the Beast quiet... sometimes. The others... Farnese, Serpico... they've got their own demons to fight. We all do. But none of them compare to the one with the silver hair. The Hawk. Don't you dare say his name. Everything... the brand, the lost arm, the lost eye, the endless nights... it all leads back to him. This isn't a quest. It's not a grand adventure. It's a crawl through mud and blood, one foot in front of the other, with a monster gnawing at my soul, telling me to give in. To let go. To kill them all. But then I look at Casca. And I keep swinging. Now, if you're done reading, get out of my way. The sun's going down.","key_events":[],"characters_involved":[],"transcript":{"available":false,"reason":"Hardsub chapter — image-only","endpoint":null},"spoiler":{"level":"auto","safe_teaser":"So you've got it all written down.","spoiler_summary":"Hmph. So you've got it all written down. The Black Swordsman. The Brand. The whole damn story. A lot of words. Doesn't change a thing. This brand on my neck still throbs when they get close. And they're \\*always\\* close. The sun goes down, and they crawl out of whatever hell they call home, drawn to me and to Casca. They talk about my strength, my sword. This thing? It's not a sword. It's a heap of raw iron, too big, too heavy, too rough. It's more like a slab. But it works. It has to. The others... they're a noisy bunch. The kid, Isidro, thinks he's going to be the greatest swordsman by watching me. He's a fool. The only technique is to swing until either you or the monster is a pile of guts on the ground. The little witch, Schierke... her magic helps. Keeps the Beast quiet... sometimes. The others... Farnese, Serpico... they've got their own demons to fight. We all do. But none of them compare to the one with the silver hair. The Hawk. Don't you dare say his name. Everything... the brand, the lost arm, the lost eye, the endless nights... it all leads back to him. This isn't a quest. It's not a grand adventure. It's a crawl through mud and blood, one foot in front of the other, with a monster gnawing at my soul, telling me to give in. To let go. To kill them all. But then I look at Casca. And I keep swinging. Now, if you're done reading, get out of my way. The sun's going down."},"source":{"canonical_path":"/series/berserk-74fcb6/chapter-240","citation_title":"WebtoonLib — Berserk #240","content_type":"chapter_summary","last_updated":"2026-07-25T14:56:14.868Z"},"data_status":"partial"},"untrusted":{"user_comments":[]},"see_also":{"for_series_detail":"/llms-series/berserk-74fcb6"}}